Blondie said that his abilities were returning.
He could tell them anything he wanted. How would they know if it was the truth or not?
From the sounds of things, the militia troops were putting up a pretty good fight and delaying the enemy at least somewhat. Each precious second they could hold them back, more troops would pour in.
Yet even as Mason got into position to attack, the enemy mages continued to push through, causing death and destruction all around them, and leaving many casualties in their wake.
Startled troops could slow the enemy down, but they would be hard pressed to stop six enemy mages bent on a rampage of devastation.
They were lucky that it wasn’t all thirteen of the mage captives on the loose.
At Blondie’s urging, Major Bill had spread several of the captive mages out to other nearby, secret locations–beyond the limited range of their prisoners’ telepathy.
Mason spotted the enemy. The necromancer strode out in front with another sorcerer. A pair of enemy wizards marched slightly behind them on either side, guarding their flanks and watching the rear.
Blondie stepped up and raked the enemy left and the middle with violet lightning that knocked four of the six off their feet, and stunned the two flankers.
The first flanker on the other side turned to attack Blondie. The second one raised his hands and his eyes got big when he saw the Pistolero step out and aim both of his pistols.
Click! Click!
Nothing. Mason’s guns wouldn’t fire. He cocked and pulled the triggers again.
Nothing.
By then the one mage was charging Blondie, exploding anything that was made of wood around him. He sent the shards and splinters and whirling debris at Blondie, while the necromancer and the other sorcerer still looked dazed and tried to regain their feet. And the mage facing Mason shot greenish-yellow flames out of his hands at all before him.
Mason dove out of the way, tucked and rolled out of sight, and then crouched and ran. The enemy wizard would be on him in seconds.
Finally he came to a building and ducked inside. He scrambled out of sight into an adjoining back storage room and ducked down. He tried his guns again. Still nothing. Why was this happening,? Now of all times?
Blondie needed him out there.
Maybe if he reloaded. Yeah, that would do it.
Slowing his breathing, doing his best to stay calm, he broke out his spare cylinders for his guns and swapped them out. He was fast at it, but every second counted.
He went back out into the fight. As he expected, the fighting quickly turned Blondie’s way, and blasts of magic nearby showed where the foes were pursuing Blondie hard and blasting everything around him. Blondie fought back as best he could, but from what Mason could tell, his friend was outnumbered four to one.
He raced that way, not even trying to stay under cover this time. He had to catch up quickly, and take them from behind, if possible.
Mason sped around a building and almost slammed into the same enemy mage as before. This one seemed to be holding back and protecting the rear of the other three while they stalked Blondie.
Mason had intended to shoot them on sight, but he clobbered the mage from behind now that he was right on top of him. The mage grunted and dropped, unconscious.
Pistol-whipping worked better in this instance. Mason dragged the mage back out of sight and quickly gagged him, and bound his hands and ankles behind him.
At this distance, Mason would not have any trouble taking out the other three with one or two shots, once he spotted them again. And their spells gave them away when they fired. Hopefully, Blondie was staying ahead of them.
Mason rushed forward once more, spotted several troops closing in with bows and crossbows, and motioned for them to go around and close in from one side or the other.
Finally he spotted the necromancer and the one wizard, crouched down and making plans of some kind.
Mason took aim at them with both barrels.
Click. Click.
Crap, not again. What the hell was going on?
Even worse, the necromancer turned and locked eyes with him.
“There’s the other one. Let’s get him!” All of their hands glowed with magefire.
Mason turned and ran for it. Dark lightning and exploding ice covered the area he had just been in.
His foes were right after him. Archers tried to fire upon the mages, but they swept the troops away from their positions with blasts of power.
A stone or outcropping of brick caught the toe of Mason’s boot. He hurtled down upon his face, and tried to roll back up to his feet.
The third enemy mage stepped out right in front of Mason.
Now, the three of them had him fairly trapped.
“Kill him!” the necromancer roared.
The wizard still hesitated an instant. Then he prepared a spell, his hands beginning to glow brighter and brighter.
They were only a dozen or so feet away. Mason hurled his useless pistols at the wizard.
One missed as the fellow dodged to one side.
The other smacked him squarely in the face and dazed and bloodied him.
Mason expected to be cut down from behind by the other two enemies any second.
He glanced back just as the two stood ready to unleash their spells.
Amazon Link to Mergeworld, Book Two: http://amzn.to/1neuq0x
If you have not read the original Naero Books by Mason Elliott, Please enjoy the following teaser from the first Spacer Clans Adventure, Book 1:
Naero’s
Run
NAERO’S
RUN
Amazon Link to Naero’s Run: http://amzn.to/1eRKCOb
by Mason Elliott
“We’ve got more than enough to consider here,” Aunt Sleak said. “We’ll post our final decisions on the Spacer ClanNet. All crew, take a breather. We’re out of jump in less that two standard hours. Everyone on duty needs to be at their ready stations. Dismissed.”
Naero went back to her quarters to do some laundry and a little more reading before they emerged. With regular effort, her quarters were less of a disaster than usual. She’d kept her bunk and her floor more or less cleared off, and slept in her bunk regularly now, instead of on the floor or in zero-G or a float bag.
And definitely not in her flex chair, as she had for years because she either couldn’t get her bunk panel out or it was too piled up with crap.
Being small had its advantages. She could curl up like a cat and get comfortable almost anywhere for a snooze.
But keeping her quarters in better shape was a promise she made and kept–to herself–and her parents.
They emerged from jump with the customary shuddering of the ship. The fleet spread out into is standard formation, emerging back into real Space-Time.
Naero punched up their positions on one of her screens, even though she didn’t have bridge duty for several hours.
The Shinai flanked The Dromon on the port side, with The Slipper posted starboard. Their two smaller ships, The Nevada and The Ardala, brought up the rear this time.
A red hot scarlet particle beam, 60mm in diameter, lanced through Naero’s walls like they were paper, disrupting her wallscreens.
A direct hit from a big gun.
At the very least, from a heavy destroyer.
Warning lights flashed immediately.
The rupture in the hull led to an immediate explosive decompression.
Naero held on tight to her bunk and went flat on the floor as the hull sealed itself.
All ships were vulnerable coming out of jump. They couldn’t activate their shields until right after they emerged.
Someone had been waiting for them.
The Dromon continued getting rocked by multiple hits from what felt like several spinal guns and secondary batteries.
But the big planetoid could take it and give back plenty, her quad main guns humming and whining to life, coming online.
Naero hit
her wristcom. All her screens down.
“Bridge. Status?”
“We stepped into it. They were waiting for us. We’re under heavy fire. Multiple bogeys.”
The general alert sounded.
“Battle Stations. Battle Stations.”
Aunt Sleak cut over the com. “All hands. All hands, to your stations. Prepare for battle. All ships, all batteries, return fire. Launch all fighters.”
Naero suited up and raced to the drop bay of her fighter. She met Jan along the way.
More intense fire. Dromon reeled and fired back.
She and Jan almost got rocked off their feet again.
A security team intercepted them at the launching bays.
Their fighters had already dropped with their backup pilots.
“The fleet captain wants you two at your secondary defense stations, not out in the mix.”
Jan started to protest.
“Orders are orders. Get to your stations.”
They ran to their remote gunnery stations, small secured cubicles with a chair and a console, operating triple pulse turrets on the hardpoints above them.
Naero brought up her autotargeting displays, weapons already powered up and humming.
The secondary battery gunnery stations operated independently and were well-protected. They were also fully automated, but they still functioned more effectively with a human interface.
Coordinated targeting profiles came online as she watched.
Jan operated a torp turret nearby.
Directly ahead of the fleet. Twelve elite Matayan destroyers, each with a dozen escort fighters.
Half of their number pursued and attacked a convoy of two dozen independent mining freighters.
Aunt Sleak’s fleet scrambled, launched, and deployed a total of threescore fighters in a standard Alpha-Charlie-1 defensive screen.
They were outnumbered two to one.
“All batteries make ready. Incoming torps,” the bridge com sounded.
Countermeasures took out half of the blips heading their way.
Spacer fighters and the forward defensive batteries blasted the rest.
“That attack’s a diversion,” Naero muttered.
Shinai’s fire control and com computers fixed on and monitored all channels–including those between the hapless freighters and the corsairs.
“Mayday, mayday, we are under intense corsair attack. All ships. Assistance, assistance. Heavy damage and casualties.”
“What do you want?” another panic-stricken voice cried out. “We’ll surrender. You can board us. We have no goods and few supplies. Please, stop firing. Our ships are full of workers–full of people. You’re killing civilians. We’re on fire!”
Scanners displayed an awful, one-sided battle among the transports.
Most of the old bulk freighters didn’t even have weapons.
Each of the heavily armed Matayan destroyers was more than a match for them or most of the ships in Aunt Sleak’s fleet.
Except for the 6m quad spinal guns of The Dromon.
One crippled freighter broke apart and exploded under concentrated fire from three destroyers. It didn’t have any shields, and only minimal armor. Its two turrets either didn’t work or had been taken out already.
Static and Matayan battle language rang out in triumph.
Dromon’s four primary guns cut loose, lighting up the entire sector. Its blue-white blasts ripped into the lead corsair flagship and its wingships, disrupting their shields.
The starboard wingship took two hits and listed to one side. Its aft section exploded.
“This is Captain Sleak Maeris of Clan Maeris. Enemy vessels, be advised: Cease hostilities and vacate this system or be destroyed.”
Matayan curses and laughter her only reply.
“Clan Maeris,” one of the freighter captains cut in. “This is Captain Philsen of The Botaru. Help us! Our situation is desperate. The corsairs are trying to destroy us. We don’t know why.”
“Acknowledged. We’re coming in. Disperse if you can. You’re still too bunched up. Scatter and concentrate on defensive actions. Jump if you’re able. We’ll try to draw them off. We’re boosting your distress call.”
Three more corsairs turned on the fleet, with all twelve dozen fighters full front on intercept.
The other trio of Matayan attackers kept after the freighters.
Naero heard the pleading and the screams on the open channel, just before another freighter got blasted to oblivion.
Naero realized she had tears on her face.
Was that how her parents went? Blasted to death by Matayan guns?
The rage she felt nearly overwhelmed her reason.
She checked her systems, gripped the controls of her gunnery station, and forced her emotions to go cold.
Against superior numbers, Naero and her Clan Fleet closed for battle.
(Amazon Link to Naero’s Run: http://amzn.to/1eRKCOb)
Want to find out what happened during the Annexation War? Please enjoy the following teaser from a spinoff series that we call:
Naero’s War:
The Annexation War
The Citation Series, Book One
Naero’s War:
The Annexation War
Annexation War Amazon Link: http://amzn.to/1gmxGQk
by Mason Elliott
Naero’s flagship, The Hippolyta, was one of the latest, Dromon Class dreadnaughts. These warships were fashioned out of dense, iron-nickel planetoids, not less than half a kilometer in diameter. Incredibly tough and rugged on their own.
It took the most powerful mining plasma-borers–working in precise conjunction with construction fixers and an army of teks–months to hollow out armored crew quarters, lift and transport tubes, launching and loading bays. Next came space for power cores, sublight engines, jump drives, backups, gravitics, life support, sensor arrays, communications, navigation, weapons, main bridge and backup bridge.
Set in the exact heart of The Hippolyta were its signature big guns. A quad of the largest production guns ever constructed on any ship of war: Four, 16 meter, rapid-fire, particle beam cannons.
Cannons any larger than that exploded, melted, or otherwise were not feasible within the limits of current tek and materials. Thirty-six secondary batteries, assorted specialized weapons and gun emplacements, and forty-five advanced fighters.
Seven hundred and forty able crew, including a full Rifle Company of two hundred and forty Spacer Marines, and all of their equipment, vehicles, and gear for ship’s security and rapid response deployment. Strike Fleet Six’s Marines came from the 3rd Spacer Marine Division–known as The Death Eyes–because of their superb snipers and their overall, excellent marksmanship ratings. Marines made up a third of the warship’s complement.
Their motto: If We Can See It…We Can Kill It!
The main bridge was a massive armored dome constructed on top of the dreadnaught’s big metal, rough-hewn orb, protected by heavy blast doors, and the latest, most advanced shielding in the fleet. Within, the circular bridge was laid out in four levels under the huge dome, a dome sixty meters high.
Each bridge tier was separated by the height of a few steps from one to the next. The inner three levels could rotate in any direction, independent of the others.
The fleet captain’s command nanochair and station occupied the highest tier. Each bridge station had its own secondary shielding, in case enemy fire penetrated the shields, the blast screens, and the hull.
In combat, bridges were routinely targeted, for obvious reasons.
From that primary vantage point, the strike fleet captain could direct battles in three hundred and sixty degrees, through an advanced, battleholo display surrounding her, full zoom data-feeds, constantly updated by battle AIs. Naero could manipulate the displays by nanosensors programmed into the fingertips of her nanosuit gloves.
The battle display system also recognized her voice pattern, and would respond to voice commands, or commands punched in ma
nually through pads on her command chair, or via other backups.
The next bridge level down from hers held the secondary bridge stations: Helm, Weapons, Communications, Navigation, and Scanning, spaced out equally along their ring.
The third ring held all of the twelve tertiary bridge stations, that monitored, controlled, and coordinated all of the ship’s other important functions:
Engineering
Gravitics
Life Support
Power Supply
Security
Shields
Medical
Jump and Sub-light Drives
Damage Control
Alliance Fleet and Intel Communications
Main Computer
Launching Bays
The fourth ring went to the two powerlifts, leading from the bridge to the other movers, decks, and levels of the ship. All lift and access points throughout the ship were constantly guarded by two battle-ready Marines, stationed on either side.
If a warship was boarded by enemy assault craft during a battle, invaders could be cut off and eliminated between decks, before they could reach a vital area.
Today, Strike Fleet Six had a mission–a simple one.
Captain Naero Maeris and her fifty warships proceeded to probe the next system on the outer, port arcwall of the Alliance advance at Beleron-4.
A routine run. Current intel assured them to expect little or no Triaxian presence or resistance.
By any stretch of the imagination, Beleron-4 was a nothing world, in the middle of nowhere, with zero, nacha–absolutely no strategic or tactical value whatsoever.
Checking it off the list on the pacified worlds of the Alliance system-hopping schedule was more-or-less just a formality.
But it still had to be done. And Naero and her lot drew the duty at random.
So why did Naero’s sense of warning go bonkers?
Naero's War: The Citation Series 3: Naero's Trial Page 30